WaT Interim
by Mariel3
Summary: Aren't smooth landings wonderful? The middle part of the JS relationship. Con't from Falling in Stages. Part 2 of the trilogy.
1. Default Chapter

1

Author's Note: Falling in Stages was the prelude. Now, continuing in the 'there ain't much of a story here, is there?' vein, here's my take on the character's reaction to the affair itself. My guess is there'll be two interim vignettes - this, and another yet to be written. When I'm finished with the interim, I'll have a go at the quietus. Wish me luck. Thanks for the encouragement to continue. I hope this doesn't disappoint. Thanks as always to Diane for reading this through!

Interim - 1

By: Mariel

The storm had raged relentlessly as they made their way to the hotel. Finally reaching the old establishment, they paused for breath on the sidewalk and then walked up worn stone steps to the entrance. Leaving the roar of wind and snow behind them, they entered through huge oaken and brass doors into deafening silence created by thick carpet and richly upholstered furniture. Without pausing to appreciate their newfound refuge, Samantha strode purposefully through the chandelier-lit foyer towards the elevator without a backwards glance. Each step she took announced she knew where she was going and that she was expected. Jack, only steps behind her, did not watch as she continued on ahead of him. Appearing unaware of the woman who had happened to enter the hotel at the same time as he, he stopped at the desk, revealed who he was and accepted a key to his reserved room.

After the expected comments about the weather, his registration was completed and he strode towards the elevator. His face expressionless, he pushed the 'up' button and waited patiently. When the door opened, he walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor.

Samantha was waiting patiently for him when the elevator door opened. Her overnight bag clutched in her right hand, she stepped in beside him and watched as he pressed the button for the fifth floor. They rode the rest of the way up in silence.

- -

The door closed behind them softly. Flicking on the first light switch her fingers found, Samantha slipped off her boots. Her way lit by the light flowing out from the washroom the small switch had belonged to, she walked slowly across the floor. The room's decor was pleasant, its muted, dark colours chosen for their ability to soothe, the furniture solid wood and gleaming with polish. The dark wood cupboard to her left no doubt held the television. To her right was a large queen-sized bed, it's discreetly patterned cover luxuriously thick and inviting. She placed her overnight bag carefully on the end of the bed with trembling hands and wondered what she thought she was doing.

And realised she hadn't thought at all.

The wall facing her was filled with a curtained window. Unbuttoning her coat as she moved, she walked towards it and swished the sheers to one side in order to look out into the storm. This near the window, she could feel the cold from outside seeping through the panes, could hear the dull roar of the wind, and hear snow lash against the glass. Turning her gaze downwards, she saw little except yellow snow-filled halos created by the streetlights below.

Refocussing her eyes, she looked at her reflection in the darkened panes of the window. Her eyes were large, dark pools and stared back at her calmly. She wasn't certain if she looked like a woman about to do what she was about to do, but then, she wasn't certain what someone who was about to do what she was about to do looked like. Hell, she wasn't even sure she knew what she was about to do should be called.

Adultery?

She didn't think so.

It didn't seem the right term somehow. It certainly didn't feel like it. She wasn't here with Mrs. Malone's husband. Being here didn't relate to anything outside of these walls. It didn't involve Jack's wife or Samantha's boyfriend or anyone else but Jack Malone and Samantha Spade. This was something new, something apart from boyfriends and marriage and appointments and crimes and disappearances and all the other daily minutia that cluttered their lives. This belonged to them alone, touched no one else, meant more than she could possibly explain, and was certainly neither dishonest nor meant to harm. This, whatever 'this' might be called, simply was. It existed and it was theirs and they needed it.

Or was it something they deserved?

She paused to consider, then reconsidered. Something they had earned, perhaps, by enduring their loneliness with such unquestioning fortitude.

Refoccusing her eyes again, she turned her attention away from the turmoil outside, away from her reflection, and towards the quiet room mirrored in the glass. In its reflected form, it looked warm and welcoming and held the only person in her world that could make it truly that. She watched as Jack, having removed his own boots, placed his overnight bag on a table provided for holding larger suitcases than either of them carried. Anticipation making her heart thud harder, she saw him remove his coat and toss it onto a chair. As she watched his reflection walk towards her, she inhaled deeply and tried one last time to think without feeling, to look at this from some other point of view...

Not turning to look at him when he came to a stop behind her, she said softly, "I don't know if this is wise..."

She could feel the slight touch of his body against her back, his warm hand on her shoulder. "Probably not," she heard him say in a low voice. She closed her eyes. He was so close she could feel his warm breath against her skin.

He turned her gently to face him. After she slowly opened her dark eyes, he asked, "Does that matter?"

She paused to consider. No. It didn't. Not any more. She gave up trying to think and allowed herself to feel. They were alone. He was within touching distance. She could feel his warmth, look directly into his eyes...

After all these months of falling, she knew without a doubt they were finally ready to land.

He reached out and gently cupped her cheek with his hand. Running his thumb along her cheekbone, he said, "If you think-"

Wanting to cut him off before he could say more, she made a slight movement towards him and tilted her face upward. Touching his lips with hers tentatively, she then stepped back and regarded him with dark eyes. "I don't want to think, Jack..."

She moved to close the curtains, shutting the world outside.

Turning, she rested one hand on his chest and slid the other around to hold the back of his neck. Her mouth met his again and she moaned softly as he gently tasted her lips and then deepened their kiss. Revelling in the sensual feel of his tongue sliding against hers, she leaned against him and wrapped her other arm around his neck. He put his arms around her, and was brought slowly back to reality by the feel of melting snow seeping through his shirt. Her coat was an incumbrance they did not need. Reluctantly letting her go, he helped her remove it, tossing it on top of his own. The moment apart seemed too long, and as soon as the coat landed, he wrapped his arms around her again.

They had all night.

He ran slow kisses along her soft neck and she arched backwards to give him ease of access. Desire making her wanton, she reached to undo the top buttons of her shirt, inviting him to explore more of her, wanting to feel his lips and hands on her breasts, wanting his warm palms to slide along her body as though they had always belonged there. Loving the texture of his hair and the smell of his aftershave, and how he made her feel, she pressed his face against her body, shuddering with need.

Slowly, they moved towards the welcoming bed. She loosened his tie, undid his shirt buttons. After he lifted the tie over his head, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers trailing along his skin lovingly, her body aching for him.

She had told him she didn't want to think, and she had, indeed, stopped doing so. Everything became sensation and desire to please and be pleased. No thoughts of ramifications or implications or complications passed through either their minds. This was meant to happen. For some crazy cosmic reason, they were supposed to do this, were supposed to share this, and revel in the sharing.

Lying back onto the bed, she gently pulled him to her, welcoming his weight upon her and the sensations that swept through her as he pressed himself against her.

No words. Soft sighs. Low moans. Unintelligible murmurs. The rest of their clothes disposed of, they carressed each other in the dim light of the one bulb they had turned on upon their arrival - and gave themselves up to the pleasures of making love.

- - -

He awoke first. Lying in dark silence, he allowed himself to become minutely aware of the woman beside him. He could feel her warmth first, then the gentle movement of her breathing. Moving his head slightly, he caught the faint scent of the perfume she always wore. The scent was strongest, he now knew, on the insides of her wrists and on the sides of her neck. Carefully, he turned onto his side and placed an arm over her body. How long had it been since he had slept like this? Naked, beside another naked body. Responding to his palm's insistence, he ran it lightly over her smooth hip and up to her waist, revelling at the sense of familiarity he felt. At peace, he closed his eyes.

It was still dark in the room when he awoke again. Lying quietly, his eyes closed, he gradually became aware of his surroundings. He could no longer hear snow whipping against the windows outside. The storm had passed. Against him, he felt Samantha stir.

"You're awake," her soft voice said.

He opened his eyes. "Yeah."

"What time is it?"

He turned over slightly to look behind him. "Almost 6:00."

She snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warmth of their bodies. "Almost time to get up. I wonder what it's like outside."

"The wind's died down."

"Hopefully the roads have been plowed. They were going by all night long."

He'd heard them too, before drifting off to sleep. Wrapping his arms around her, he murmured, "Last night..."

She moved her head to look up at him and smiled. "Yeah," she said, before quickly snuggling back against him. "And now we've got to get up." He could feel the energy begin to rise in her.

"Do you want to shower first?" she asked.

He smiled and hugged her briefly. Yup. She was ready to start her day. He had wondered what she was like in the morning - languid or energetic, talkative or withdrawn until the first cup of coffee. Perhaps the first morning after wasn't a good time to judge, but he thought he'd like her in the mornings.

"Yeah, that'd be good," he replied. "I usually get in a bit before you do anyway."

When she heard the shower turn on, Samantha got up. Searching for something to throw on before showering herself, she picked up Jack's discarded shirt and put it on. Buttoning it up, she took the time to relish the intimacy of wearing his clothing, then walked over to the small courtesy basket set on the desk and began to prepare a morning pot of coffee.

She was standing in front of the window, nursing a freshly brewed cup of the dark liquid when Jack emerged from the bathroom. She turned and looked at him with an appraising eye. Smiling, she asked, "New office dress code?"

Jack adjusted the towel around his waist more firmly. "Nah, this is just a private showing. I'd catch a chill on a day like this." Looking over at his overnight bag, he told her, "I need my shaving gear."

"Would you like a cup of coffee?"

He nodded. "Let me shave, first." Lifting his overnight bag from the suitcase trestle, he asked, "What's it like out there?"

"Sunny, calm, brilliantly white."

"Good. We've got a lot to do today."

She smiled at his retreating form, happiness making her almost giddy. So this was Jack in the morning.

She liked it.

When he appeared next, he was shaven and neatly attired in a fresh pair of pants and a straight-from-the-laundry shirt.

"There's only whitener," she warned him as he walked towards the coffee pot.

He grimaced at the thought of using the noxious white powder some people thought acceptable as a substitute for coffee cream. Need for his morning dose of caffeine, however, made him continue forward. "I'll take it black." Pouring himself a cup, he came to stand beside her at the window. Looking her up and down, he said, "You look good."

She tilted her head and grinned. "Must be the shirt."

"Must be. It suits you."

"I'll have to wear it again."

He held her gaze. "I'd like that."

The look in his eyes made her shiver. Without thinking, she took his coffee from him and placed both it and her own on the small round table set to one side of the window. She turned to move close to him again. "You'll have to excuse the coffee breath, but-" Sliding her arms around his neck, she placed her lips softly against his.

The feel of her lithe body pressed up against him sent a shock of desire through him. Letting himself dive into their kiss, he slid his hands over her back, relishing the feel of his shirt as it travelled over her body. When their lips finally separated, she looked up at him and smiled again. She was smiling a lot, he thought, then realised that he was probably smiling a lot, too. He brought a hand up to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You're beautiful."

"And in need of a shower," she said breathlessly, deflecting his compliment, but holding it close to her heart all the same.

He gestured towards her cup of coffee. "Let's finish our coffee, then I'll leave."

He'd rather have stayed and repeated the night before.

She nodded. When she moved to sit in the chair in front of her cup, he followed and sat across from her. Reaching across the table for his coffee, he told her, "If I leave in about fifteen minutes, I'll be there before anyone else arrives."

Calculating time and distance, she said, "I'll show up about thirty minutes after you do."

Unspoken was the knowledge that if they said nothing, it was unlikely anyone would know she had been to work the day before. They shared a long, contented and very self-satisfied stare. Certainly, no one would guess where they had been and what they had done after leaving.

It was a precious, glorious secret.

End

Interim 1

By: Mariel


	2. Interim 2

Interim 2  
By: Mariel

Jack shut the car off and turned to Samantha. "Our flight leaves in about two hours. Maddison should be at the airport to meet us. He said he'll give us whatever details he's managed to gather, then. Our plane lands at 4:35 - that'll give him time to locate a few of the family members."

Samantha nodded her blond head. "If you're right, we should have Tricia back with her mother by tomorrow night."

Jack pulled the keys from the ignition. "If I'm right."

They both hoped he was.

Though their outward demeanour revealed nothing, the knowledge they were leaving the city together did not leave them untouched.

In the first, heady weeks of their affair, the strength of their passion had suprised them both. Working together on a case had deeper import, talking at the conference table took on deeper meaning. Looks, subtle touches, even close proximity held significance.

They loved it.

Being so close, working so smoothly, being so in tune with someone else...it all took on a surreal feeling they did not stop to question or define. Blown away, bowled over, swept off their feet, knocked for a loop...whatever or however you wanted to term it, they didn't know what hit them and did not care to find out.

And now they were going away together.

They'd been met by Agent Maddison shortly after their flight touched down. As they'd hoped, he had the information they required.

In only a little more than three hours, the child was in the custody of Children's Welfare, and would soon be returned to her parent the following day. Now, relaxed and pleased with the happy resolution of the case, Jack and Sam sat across from each other at a small, candlelit table in a restaurant recommended by the hotel deskman. An undercurrent of happy expectation coloured their words and motions.

Looking around at the other diners, most of whom were also couples enjoying an evening out, Samantha smiled. Loving their anonymity, she commented, "Sometimes I can't believe this is real.I didn't know I could be this happy." She reached out her hand to touch his.

Jack placed a warm hand over hers. They had spoken little of their affair. At first, he had not even been able to call it that. But how else could one describe the clandestine meetings and the increasingly intricate machinations required to keep hidden a relationship between a married man and a woman not his wife? The wrongness of it was creeping into his happiness, but only slowly. Resolutely, he clung selfishly to the way he felt about the woman sitting across from him.

"I-" He started to speak, then stopped abruptly, grasping for the right words. Knowing they would be inadequate, he finally managed, "I don't deserve to be this happy. I'm not sure how we got here, but Sam, I never forget to be thankful. You-" He paused here again, trying to put into words the miracle that had happened between them and what it meant to him. "I...I don't feel as though I'm searching for something anymore." Indeed, Samantha had filled a need within him he had always been aware of but had never found the answer to. Still struck by the wonder of what was happening, the fact he had done things out of order, that he had not finished one relationship before he had begun another, did not seem to be of any importance.

"Maybe that's it, then," Smantha said, her dark eyes warm. "We're simply parts of a puzzle that fit."

He held her gaze and fell once again into a world that contained only him and the woman across from him. "That we are," he replied, his voice husky.

His look made her blush. "Jack. Finish your dinner. I think we need to get back to our room."

'Our room...'

Saying the words sent a thrill running through her.

End

Interim 2


	3. Interim 3

Interim 3  
By: Mariel

Samantha sat on the floor, back resting comfortably on the front of her sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her. Notebooks, papers, and files littered the coffee table and any floor space within arms distance. Moving restlessly, she uncrossed her ankles and looked across the room.

"I'm not finding anything," she complained. "There's nothing here to indicate she'd have any reason to leave."

Sitting at the desk placed against one of the long living room walls in her apartment, Jack took off his reading glasses and pinched the top of his nose. Looking at the reports he'd been reviewing, he said, "Her husband seems to think she did."

"Yeah," she grunted. Her scepticsm of anything the spouse might have to say was obvious. "But the more I think about it, the more I think he had more reasons for wanting her gone than she had for wanting to go."

Wincing as he bent a kink out of his neck, Jack admitted, "I'm having trouble shaking the feeling things weren't as picture-perfect as he lets on."

Gracefully rising to her feet, Samantha stepped over the files on the floor and walked over to stand behind him. Without speaking, she began to gently massage his neck. She liked these moments together, liked the closeness and the almost-but-not-quite normalcy they lent to their relationship. More and more frequently, when they had to work late, they'd taken to leaving the office and bringing their work to her apartment. She'd make coffee and bring it out to him, always pausing a moment in the doorway to savour the picture of Jack sitting at her desk, the halo of its light highlighting the silver strands of hair growing at his temples. She liked seeing him sitting there, liked the way he looked at home. Liked knowing the strength of his hands and being able to remember their touch on her skin.

After settling down with their coffee, they'd work, breaking the easy silence between them occasionally with comments. Usually, by unspoken accord, they finished shortly before he was due to go home. Sometimes, they finished earlier and made love. Sometimes, they did not. In either case, the time together was something warm and comfortable, and something they looked forward to after a long day.

He groaned as the pressure of her fingers sought out and wrangled with a particularly obstinate knot.

"Feel good?" she asked.

He could feel the warm smile in her voice. "Mmmmm...Always," he said in a deep tone.

"It's nearly time for you to go." She took comfort in the knowledge that only a few hours separated them.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm on story duty tonight. The girls were going to a birthday movie party. I told them that since they'd be up late, I'd make sure I'd be home in time to tuck them in."

She smiled, liking the mental picture his words elicited. He would be a good father - a father with humour and caring and gentleness. There was no doubt he loved being one. His time with Hannah and Kate was sacrosanct, and so she and Jack saw one another on those nights he would be too late to tuck them in or when he tucked them in and then returned to work. It was something she never felt resentful of. Envious, perhaps, because of what she had never had as a young girl, but never resentful.

"Then you'd better start clearing this up. Do you want me to take it in for you tomorrow morning?"

He shook his head. As her fingers gently slid away from his shoulders, he began to gather things together. "I may get a chance after the girls go to bed to take another look at some of the friends' statements."

She moved back to her coffee table and began straightening up her own work area.

"Maria let me know this morning that she's definitely going out of town tomorrow night. She's taking the girls, so that they can see their aunt."

Samantha stilled as her heart began to thump. A smile rose up within her. He'd left this information for last, knowing it was good news to be savoured. He didn't need to say more and she didn't need to question. Tomorrow night they would be together. And if the case allowed it, they would perhaps have dinner somewhere. See a movie, or rent one to watch here. There would be no worry about getting home at a certain time.

"See you tomorrow," she told him at the door. They kissed gently, then he turned and left.

Smiling, Samantha cleared up their coffee mugs and prepared for bed.

End

Interim 3


	4. Interim 4

Thanks to everyone for your reviews! cougshupe, thanks for your kind words. Writing a story that has no story (well, not exactly a story, anyways) was making me feel very nervous, so your review made my day! Midnight Caller - any scene with Jack in a towel is now officially dedicated to you, okay?

As always, thanks to Diane, who patiently watches each chapter go through several 'morphs' before its final posting.

This is the last of this series. Their happy days are almost over. I'm working on the final series now. Wish me luck!

Interim 4  
By: Mariel

It was early evening, and the lighting in the office area had been dimmed for the night. Here and there, though, spots of light glowed from various work stations. One particular halo of light shone from Samantha Spade's desk. Hair gleaming, she sat with her head bent over a report.

A quiet voice interrupted her. "Hey."

She turned her chair away from her desk and looked up at Jack.

"Hey, yourself."

"I just got off the phone. Remember that conference in Boston I was telling you about?" When she nodded, he continued, "I guess Maria's going to it after all. When she told her boss she thought she'd give it a miss, he told her to rethink, so she doesn't have much of a choice, I guess. Since we've got this case going, Hannah and Katie are staying at their grandmother's until Maria gets back."

Samantha's breath caught in her throat. She knew what that meant, and felt anticipation rise within her. The last conference Maria had gone to, the girls had remained home, Jack had taken the days off, and they had not seen one another. This time would be different.

- - -

They ate dinner at their Thai restaurant, savouring both the food and the lack of worry about time. His overnight bag was already in the car, and they had not one, but two, evenings together to look forward to.

After dinner, they went straight to Samantha's apartment.

"Want to go over the notes?"

Jack nodded. "There's something we're missing, or someone we haven't spoken to that we should have."

"Well, looking over everything again may help us find it," Samantha reassured him. "You set everything up, and I'll put on the coffee."

An hour later, Jack took his reading glasses off and laid them on the desk in front of him. Looking across the room to where Samantha sat curled up on the sofa, he asked, "Ready to quit?"

Looking up from the interview notes she was reading, she nodded. "I think you're right. We need to interview the brother again. Matt took a lot of money out of his account the day he disappeared, and I'm willing to bet he's holed up somewhere and that his brother knows damned well where that somewhere is."

"And is too frightened to tell us?"

Again, her head moved to indicate agreement. "He's trying to protect his brother's life. I don't blame him." Setting down the paper she was reading, she settled back more against the sofa. "I must admit I feel better about looking for someone hiding instead of a body."

Jack shook his head. "The guy was crazy. No one messes with the people he was messing with and comes out on the top."

Samantha shrugged. "There are always people willing to give it a try. He's just one of them."

"At least if our instincts are right, we'll have found him by lunchtime tomorrow." Rising from his chair, Jack walked over to the sofa and sat beside her. "Let's watch the news, and then go to bed."

Thirty minutes later, they were still sitting comfortably in front of the television, watching the end of the late news.

Awareness of him building, Samantha stirred, relishing the way his arm fit around her shoulders, the way her body fit so perfectly against his. Leaning against him a little more, she said, "This is nice."

Jack's arm tightened around her. It was. He still hadn't stopped to question what they were doing and where it would lead. It had been a big jump to go from discovering he cared more for her than he should to sharing her bed, and a totally unexpected one. Though the place they were in now had been months in the making, the thought of the affair itself still left him with a feeling of surprise.

Interrupting his thoughts, Samantha asked, "If we have the chance, do you want to go to the market tomorrow? We can pick up something for dinner there. I'd like to take a look around for a mat for the kitchen, too."

"Sounds good to me." Anything involving being with her sounded good. The last couple of months had been a time of discovery for them both. Samantha didn't like french fries. Jack didn't like carrots. Both liked the colour blue and felt best when wearing black. Knowledge of these and other small details had increased their feelings of intimacy.

"Good," she said, settling back against him. After a few moments of quiet, she asked, "Do you ever wonder how on earth we got to this point?"

Jack looked at her, only slightly surprised her thoughts were running along similar lines to his. "I don't think I've had time to think, but I do know I had no idea I could be so lucky."

Again they lapsed into silence. Then Samantha smiled. "I know I've said this before, but I'm very happy."

Jack tightened his arm around her, and kissed the top of her head lightly. "Me, too."

The feeling still managed to shock them both.

"Sometimes I'm frightened that if I think about it too much, something bad will happen and it will all end," she admitted softly. She turned to look at him, her eyes dark.

He sat in silence a moment. Eyes never wavering from hers, he said slowly, "I don't think whatever it is that we have between us could ever end easily, Samantha."

She knew he was right, but was happy to hear him say it. They spoke of their affair rarely - there didn't, after all, seem much to say. On those occasions when she did consider it, however, she tried hard to be analytical. The simple fact of the whole thing, she'd decided, was that they cared for each other. Belonged with each other. And operated under the constraints that their circumstances necessitated. She asked for nothing more than what they had, and neither did he. Used to settling for less, she suspected he was, too. That they had stumbled into a relationship that had developed into something more than they had dreamed of seemed a stroke of incredible good fortune. That it had developed while he was married to someone else she tried hard to forget.

Not once had it ever crossed their minds not to act on what they felt. Nor had they ever considered stopping. They had not even considered the possibility that they might not be able to have their affair and maintain the rest of their lives as usual. They had, after all, found love, and love makes people both selfish and blind in regrettable ways.

Later, they would regret not taking the time to think of what, exactly, they were doing and how it affected the other people in their lives. For now, however, they still continued to think of little but themselves.

Samantha shifted on the sofa. She moved away from Jack slightly, but only so that she could draw him to her more comfortably. As his lips touched hers, she closed her eyes, loving every moment. This was theirs. Nothing else existed.

End  
Interim 4/4


End file.
